Species Games
by AfterTheEndM
Summary: Dean knows his chances of getting out of this alive are slim. He knows he has to win though, for Sam. The one thing holding him back, a little blue eyed angel in a trench coat. 12 Sectors. 6 Species. Let the Games Begin.
1. Chapter 1

**A/U: This is a Supernatural version of the Hunger Games. Usually I'm not as into my stories, but I'm very excited about this one. I'll try to update once a week, usually on the weekend. Reviews, comments, follows, and favorites will get me more motivated. But overall I hope you enjoy the story! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. **

"When we are no longer able to change a situation- we are challenged to change ourselves." -Viktor E. Frankl

**Chapter 1- Sector 7**

It's the shaking on my shoulders that wakes me up in the morning. Before the hands even touch me, I'm already mostly alert. My eyes are snapped open, and I have to bite on my bottom lip to keep from making a sound. The blurriness of sleep gives way to show the face of John, my dad. I barley even hear the sigh of relief escaping my lips. The remnants of my dream make me shudder. I hadn't had that one in a while. I can still picture the red flames, smell the smoke and hear the screaming. Sitting up, I yawn slightly, stretching my arms above my head.

"It's dawn Dean." Dad grunts, and moves off my bed to pick up his knife. He'd wearing his favorite leather jacket, and jeans. Usually he's excited about a hunt. Right now however, his face is shaken, and worried. "I'll meet you out by the woods." I nod in confirmation, and he leaves without another word. Pleasantries are something we can't afford when we're starving, and everyone has someone to take care of. The thought doesn't stop the pang going through my chest.

"Dean?" The small voice makes me glance over to where Sam is sitting up in his bed. His hair is swarmed around his head, and he's rubbing at his eyes. "Can't I come with you today? I can help." Sam whispers quietly, looking around as if someone will hear him. And maybe they will, I have no way of knowing. My face hardens as the request breaches into the circles of my mind. Sam knows that Dad, and I do illegal hunting. In all the Sectors it's illegal to hunt unless you've got a licensed registration. Almost nobody has one in Sector 7.

You'd think being surrounded by so much forest; we'd have a limitless supply of food. This isn't the case though. Sector 1- The Capital building, controls everything. Sector 1's species is the angels. Empty stomach's isn't the only price we ever have to pay. I can't remember the whole story. I just know that all the species, Humans, Angels, Demons, Shape shifters, Werewolves, and Vampires used to live in peace. Until the previous Angels' leader died, and his son, Raphael, took his place.

Seeing as angels were much stronger than everyone else, they tried to force everybody else to bow down to them. Instead, everyone rebelled. In the end, the species didn't work together, and it took almost no time at all to have us begging for forgiveness. To remind us of this day, Raphael created the Species Games. Every Sector, even Sector 1, would send in two of its people between the ages, 12 and 18, to fight to the death in an arena. This day is called the Gathering. The two picked, then go to Sector 1, where they will train for a period of time before getting thrown into the arena.

There is only ever one victor, usually the male of Sector 1. Most of the times the victors come from the Sectors 1, 9, 4, or 12. These are the sectors with the species of Angel and Demon. All their kids are trained for this, the moment they're born. In fact, they have the most volunteers. Bile rises in my throat at the mere thought.

I looked out onto the bare roads, and my face suddenly pales. I start counting down days in my head. Then thinking of Dad's expression when he woke me up, I swallow. The Gathering was today. Sector 7 never has any victors. In all its seventy three years, we'd had two victors. One of the victors is dead. And the other victor is always drinking, always drunk, and a laughing stock. I can only imagine who will be slaughtered in my Sector this year. A friend, someone I know? _Sammy? _I feel sick.

"Dean?" Sam asks, walking over to me, and lightly touching my arm. I flinch and look down at him. Sam is only thirteen. He has a chance of getting in, and though I do too, my worry for him overwhelms, any worry for me I might have.

"No, Sammy. You can't come, and you know that." I hiss, getting up. Dad will be waiting, and I need to get out there. My heart beats against my chest, and it feels like my ribs are going to break at the force. Usually everyone celebrates the night of the Gathering. The day the Official picks out two names. We celebrate with food, and drink, because this year, someone we love hasn't been picked. My stomach lurches at the thought of the two families, who will shut their doors, and weep, waiting for their child's inevitable death.

"But Dean-" I'm out the door before he can finish his sentence. Pulling forth my leather jacket, I shake my feet around in my boots. They were lying by the fireplace before I put them on. So the insides of them are warm. My silver knife is settled nicely at the back of my jacket, hidden from sight.

The sun is only just barely casting its pinks and oranges at the tops of the trees. So, there shouldn't be any people out of bed yet. The people that are, are mostly just the Officials. I can feel their gazes burning on my back. They know where I'm headed, but the Officials in Sector 7, aren't too bad. They pity the people that are starving. And they know I've got Sammy back at home. Everybody loves Sammy. Not to mention, we're the Winchesters. The 'motherless boys' are what people say behind our back. I just pretend not to listen.

I begin to hum a tune under my breath, settling my hands inside my pockets. "What took you so long?" Dad asks. He's talking quietly, because we aren't in the uncharted territory yet. Even though most of the Officials turn their backs on what we do, if they catch us in the act, they will have to turn us in. And punishment for what we do is either flogging or death. Death would be kinder.

I point out into the woods, and shake my head. Dad nods slowly, accepting that I'll talk to him once we get on the uncharted territory. Lifting up the broken fence line, Dad snakes under it, and I follow closely behind.

Once we're out a good ten minutes or so, I open my mouth. "Sammy asked to come with us today." Dad's jaw hardens, and he looks at the ground. He doesn't reply to me, and I honestly hadn't expected him too. He's very against Sammy coming out here, and hunting. There is just something about Sammy that is innocent. He doesn't yet know the dangers of the world. Sure, he knows about the Gathering, and the games. But we never really allow him to watch the games. It's best to keep Sammy under the dark. Sometimes I wish I could close my own eyes to the horrors of it all.

"Did you sign up for the tesserae this year again?" Dad ends up choking out. Trust Dad to ask about the one thing I don't want to think about.

I glance downward at the forest floor and my chin moves upward just an inch in a nod. If you sign up for the tesserae, you can get extra oil, and grains sent to your family. In exchange your name is put more into the bowl for the Gathering. I'm seventeen, so my name will be in there almost forty times. I don't let Sammy sign up for it, even though he wants too. All he really knows is it will help us. I'd prefer it if his name wasn't in the bowl at all, but the less the better. I think of the forty slips of paper in that bowl that have messy scrawl saying 'Dean Winchester.'

"You won't get picked Dean." Dad says, as if he knows my thoughts. Before I can muster a reply, he lifts a finger to his mouth. He must see something. I peer around him, and look at the rabbit. It's scrawny, and will just barley feed three people. However its food, and today we need to get what we can get. Dad slowly lifts the knife, and just as the rabbit is shooting forward to leave. Dad leaps forward, and sticks the knife in its side. It twitches, and then falls limp.

Dad taught me to hunt at a young age. After Mom was gone, around the time I was four, he didn't know how to cope. He fell into a state where he didn't talk to Sammy or me anymore. Sammy was only a year old, so he doesn't really remember Mom. But I did. I learned early what it meant to survive. Dad would go out hunting, and bring back food. When I turned ten, he took me. I learned the best way to kill, the best way to hunt. I learned to lie, deceive, hide my emotions, sneak around, kill, and worst of all. I learned how to grow up fast.

After another couple minutes, I went to go check on my traps. I wasn't the best at tying knots. My traps usually didn't catch anything. I grinned haughtily however, when I saw a goose wound up inside one. Pulling out my knife, I slit it cleanly at the side. I was good at killing things almost instantly.

"Well little guy, looks like Sammy is going to get some goose tonight. He loves that stuff." Sam mostly liked rabbit food, but seeing as we normally didn't pick things as much as we hunted. He ate more meat. His favorite was goose.

Meeting up with Dad, he had managed to catch a couple more things. We snuck back out of the uncharted territory, and headed into town. Most people were up now, wearing their best clothes. The children looked slightly mortified and sick. The families were just barely holding back tears. There were some gamblers that I absolutely hated. I caught the eye of Gordon, and he smirked at me. There was no doubt he was betting on me getting picked.

I swallowed, and looked away. Dad put a hand at my shoulder and squeezed. Maybe he did it as a form of comfort, but more than likely, he was telling me to just ignore them. We traded in everything except the goose. We got Sammy a new pair of boots, some cheese, and a couple blankets for the cold weather setting in. Then we headed back home.

Dad and I mostly didn't talk on this day, the day of the Gathering. I knew he missed Mom, and the thought of losing us was too hard to bear. Sometimes though, I wish he tried to talk to me more, maybe give me false reassurances. Sammy was waiting for us when we got back. He was wearing a button up plaid shirt, and one of my old jackets. I laughed seeing it was much too big for him.

He gave me one of his usual bitch faces. "What do you want me to do about it? I have to get all of _your_ jackets, and you're a million times bigger than me. You're too fat." Sam sourly complained, rolling up the sleeves. I rolled my eyes, and promptly picked him up, hefting him over both my shoulders, so his legs hit against my chest. He made a noise of protest.

"Jerk."

"Bitch." I grinned when he laughed. Dad glowered as us both though, and I put Sammy back down. Now was not the time to be joking around. I put on my own nice shirt, and my leather jacket. I didn't see the point of dressing up when we were sending our own to die. I think that was almost part of the punishment.

"I'll meet you both outside." Dad slicked back his hair, and shut the door, leaving a residue of stony silence.

Sam spoke up, shifting on the balls of his feet. I could tell he had something on his mind, and waited patiently for him to say it. "I don't want you to get picked Dean." He blurted out, and flushed slightly, almost embarrassed. I smiled, and ruffled his hair.

"I'm not going to get picked, and neither are you for that matter." I rolled my eyes seeing the sleeves of the jacket curling over Sam's fingers. I'd have to buy him a new jacket, maybe trade one in for something.

"I'm worried about you Dean, not me." Sam hissed, eyes gleaming.

"Hey, no chick flick moments." I affectionately shook my head. "Besides I got a goose today, so tonight we'll make it, and maybe we can invite Jo and Ellen over." Jo and Ellen were friends of ours. Jo was in the same boat as Sam, and I, except fatherless.

Sam nodded, looking a little more relaxed. "Well let's go then." He opened the door, and we walked out. I snickered, seeing him fumble with the sleeves once more.

"You know I'm probably going to be taller than you." Sam growled, as we headed toward the center of town for the Gathering. Dad hid a small smile. I just snorted.

"In your dreams Sasquatch." Before we entered, Dad grabbed my shoulder.

"Sam, can I talk to your brother for a moment." Sam narrowed his eyes, but nodded, continuing into the Center of town.

"What is it Dad?" I asked, actually a little curious.

"This is still one of Sam's first reaping's, and we both know that no matter what he'll be forced to watch the Games this year." Dad looked grim, and my teeth clenched together. "Just, watch out for Sammy, alright?"

"Yeah Dad, you know I will." Satisfied with my answer, Dad, and I proceeded into the Gathering. I could already see the person from Sector one, ready to pick out names. I felt disgusted, seeing he actually looked excited.

Zachariah was always the one who picked out those years pickings for the species Games. I think because he was one of the more lowly angels, he was given our Sector. Nobody wanted to pick the losing Sectors pickings. Still, he allowed a fake plaster of a smile to come to his face. He was decked out in a suit, one I'd never be able to afford, and had his hands tucked behind his back.

Sitting next to Zachariah was our only living victor, Bobby Singer. I hadn't watched that years games, because I don't even think I was alive. However that had been the bloodiest games anyone had ever seen. That year had been special with four pickings from each sector. Meaning eight of every species. Obviously the species all grouped with their own kind. Well, everyone except Bobby that is. Bobby stuck to himself. Yet, when he came out of those games. He was no longer the same boy. He became a drunk, and very secluded. He didn't talk much, mostly kept to himself. I could almost see how he thought though, every single move he anticipated. I personally thought there was more to him than a drunk. I might have been the only one though.

I caught Sam's eye from far away, and winked at him. He just rolled his eyes, and faced the front. Zachariah came to the front of the stage, wrinkling his nose disdainfully. He patted down his suit thoughtfully, as though trying to get rid of the nonexistent wrinkles.

"Welcome to the 74th Species Games." He launched into the long history of why the games came to be, and how this year would be a very exciting game. I didn't exactly want to know why it would be exciting. I just twitched around in my seat, my mouth pressing firmly together. "Well, may the odds be ever in your favor." He ended his monologue with these quiet words. "Ladies first." He smiled, and it took every ounce of my strength to not go up there, and rip out his lungs.

"For your female picking, I give you a Miss. Joanna Harvelle." My heart sunk, and then decidedly leapt into my throat. I didn't know Jo too well; Sam was the one that talked to her. She was Sam's age. Blonde hair and pale skin, but what scared me was the bony knees and elbows. She was already dead, and everybody knew it too.

I managed to catch sight of Ellen. She had her hands to her mouth, eyes swimming with tears. Jo, Jo didn't look scared. She didn't cry, but instead lifted her chin and walked onto that stage, taking her place. Nobody volunteered, nobody ever volunteered. I didn't miss the crowd's quiet murmurs, and the disproval of a young girl being picked.

"And now the gentlemen." His hand went into the glass bowl, and my heart stuttered slightly in its beats. My forty slips, I couldn't go to the games. I had to protect Sammy. I found myself selfishly wishing that somebody else would be picked.

Slowly he withdrew a small, white slip of paper. My mouth ran dry. "And for this year's Species Games, I give you a Mr. Sam Winchester!"

**A/N: So what did you guys think? I apologize now for any misspellings. I am editing this story myself, and I also might have changed things around for age. Just know I make these mistakes intentionally. I know my supernatural facts. Just to clear things up, we have six species in this Supernatural world (Angels, Demons, Vampires, Werewolves, Shape shifters, and Human.) There are two sectors for each species. So anyway, hope you guys liked it! Next chapter coming soon. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/U: Well this is the next chapter of **_**Species Games**_**. I had a lot of fun writing the previous chapter, and did get a review. So thanks a lot for that! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. **

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."

-Lao Tzu

**Chapter 2- I Volunteer **

The first time I went hunting, was like a breath of fresh air. My veins were pumping full of blood, and I could hardly hear my father's warnings over the hum of my excitement. The fabric of my jeans got caught on the link of the fence. When I jumped forward to go into the forest, my leg twisted, and I fell hard on my back.

I couldn't even feel the pain. All I did was lay there, trying to remember how to breathe. I was trying to remember how to do anything. That's how I feel right now, hearing Sammy's name being called out by Zachariah. Because, _no_, this shouldn't be happening, this can't be happening. Being called onto that stage is like a death sentence hanging over your head.

My muscles remain petrified and frozen. But my eyes aren't. Immediately they are scoping the crowds, looking for Sam. When I catch sight of him, he's trembling, very subtly. His jaw is clenched tight, and his eyes hard shards of glass. His first movement is to roll up the sleeves of the jacket we were joking about not even an hour ago. Then, his long legs are moving towards the stage. Towards his death.

I meet my Dad's eyes. And there isn't even a word for the horror swarming in them, and the helplessness. The crowd parts back and I see they all are murmuring words to Sam. He doesn't react to them, but he stutters slightly.

Everyone is silent. They all know Winchesters. They all know Sammy. Even the gamblers look a little stunned. Some of the eyes are on me, and I realize people thought it would be _me_, walking on that stage. I wait for somebody, anybody, to protest, but sourly realize nobody would put themselves in the position of death.

_Just watch out for Sammy alright? Yeah Dad, you know I will. _I don't even realize I'm moving. Not until my hand claws at the sleeve of Sam's leather jacket. I tug him back behind me, ferocity in my gaze.

"I volunteer!" I shout. My voice is hoarse, but nobody could argue that I didn't 100% mean the words I'd just laid in my mouth. "I volunteer." I say a little quieter.

"Well, isn't this something?" Zachariah grins, and then frowns, looking a little uncertain. "But, I believe we are supposed to congratulate this year's pickings, and then ask for volunteers?" The statement is said in a question. He looks back at the other Officials behind him, and they look at each other, shrugging.

My gaze locks on Bobby Singer, the one victor. The entire speech he's been eyeing the ground. Now, he's peering up in interest at me. His head tilts to the side, and he grunts.

"Just let the boy come up here, I don't see a point in arguing about it. Either way you get your picking." Bobby's eyes are glazed in a sort of sadness, but he merely raises a bottle to his lips, and chugs it back.

I let out a shaky breath, and stare back over my shoulder at Sam. He looks shocked, and a stony sort of fear is radiating off of him. I smile softly. "It's okay Sammy, it's okay." I know it's not, but it's what I tell myself as my boot hits the first step of the stage.

"Dean!" He cries out, as if just realizing the reality of it all. "You can't do this, you can't!" He's shouting at me now, his fists trembling at it sides. Dad comes through the crowd, and picks him up, dragging him back. Dad looks up at me, and mouths something, but I can't tell what. Then they both disappear into the crowd.

I just close my eyes, and pretend not to hear Sam's shouts. Pretend not to feel Dad's eyes on me. I'm afraid that if I do look up, I'll break. And I can't do that. Not now.

I stand a couple feet away from Jo, my chin tilted upwards. Zachariah has a hand on my shoulder, squeezing tightly. He doesn't even try to hide the slight surprise from his voice. "Well, I'll bet on my grace that was your brother wasn't it?" I nod stiffly, swallowing. Damn angels.

"What is your name boy?" The hand moves off my shoulder, and a microphone is raised to my lips.

"Dean Winchester." I hiss, scowling coldly at the ground. I may willingly be up here, but I don't have to be happy about it.

"Well, I suppose I was right after all. This really will be exciting games! Let's applaud for our pickings." The crowd remains quiet. They remain still. My breath rushes out of my body for the second time in five minutes. They don't agree. They all had some sense that I'd be up here on this stage, and I was. But the way it happened, they didn't agree. One by one, they shift a hand over their hearts. It doesn't mean much, just a sort of goodbye. But now I realize how close I am to punching Zachariah in the face.

"Well, this year's pickings, Sector 7!" He raises my hand, and Jo's. "What an exciting games this will be." He repeats again. I really doubt it.

There are allowed to be visitors before you leave on a train to Sector 1. The first visitors are obvious, Sammy, and Dad. The second they let Sam in, he is running across the room to hug me. His eyes are swollen red, and he has something inside his fist.

"Why did you do that Dean? How could you do that?" He asks voice crackly. I smile softly, and push him back playfully.

"Hey, no chick flick moments." It's the only thing I can think of saying without worrying Sam.

"You have to win Dean. You can do it, I know you can. You've got the skills of a hunter-"

"Sam-"

"No, listen. You have the skills you need. I know you can come back Dean. You have to promise me Dean. You have to do that. You owe me that much." His lips set in a thin line, and his arms cross over his chest. My heart sinks, because I know that stubborn stance only too well. He'd not upset anymore, because he believes I will come back. I've never lied to Sammy before, and I really didn't intend to do it now. But I think it was needed.

"I promise." Sam nods, and then cautiously opens his palm. "You didn't put this on today, since you were rushing. But you are allowed to wear one thing from home into the arena. Will you wear this?" My throat clogs seeing the amulet Sam got for me when we were younger. He'd managed to get it at a black market.

I nod, slipping it on my neck. "Of course I'll wear it." I take it from him, putting it over my head and then turn to Dad. "I need you to be there for Sammy. When Mom died, you were a mess, and you wouldn't even speak to us. _I_ had to raise Sammy. But I might not be there anymore to do that." Dad looks crushed, but he's a grown man and he needed to hear this. "Be there for Sammy, and no matter what you see or what you hear. Do not let Sammy grow up alone."

The Officials come back into the room, and take them back out. The last thing I see is Sam eyeing me. I fall back into my chair, shaking. I'm waiting for the officials to come back in to lead me out, but instead the door opens with another visitor. My eyes widen seeing Ellen.

"Ellen? What are you-" I'm cut off when she smacks me in the chest. Wincing, I glare at her. "How is that supposed to help anybody, you son of a-"

"Don't get cross with me." I shut my mouth. Nobody wants an angry Ellen on her hands. I except her scolding, but then she's hugging me. "You are a stupid, stupid, brilliant boy. I'm proud of you." She leans back smiling at me. "What you did for Sam, everybody is shocked to say the least. Nobody expected you to go and do that." She pats my cheek, "Well, I'm not. You're a good man Dean, and you'll grow even greater." Her tone turns grave, and I swallow. She doesn't except me to go back, and Jo for that matter.

"I'll protect Jo the best I can. I promise Ellen." I say, my throat clenches, trying to keep the lies in, but they are the only thing keeping me stable. Ellen nods doubtfully, and then heads back to the door.

"Word of advice Dean, stay alive." Then she's gone. The second she is, officials come in to lead me to the train we must take back to Capital 1.

My fingers unconsciously touch the amulet, maybe to hold on to the last piece of home. I'm led into a room, and inhale sharply seeing Jo. Her face is cold, but her cheeks hold a tint of pink, showing she's cried at least a little.

Usually when I see Jo, she's happy looking. Carrying the ability to make everybody smile and laugh. Now, her eyes are cold, and she has the aura of a killer. "Dean?" She whispers, and then gets up, walking over to me. "What you did for Sam was really brave." Her cheeks turn pink, and she looks down. I bite on the inside of my cheek. No need to snap at Jo.

The room is pretty empty except for a table in the middle of the room with bottles of water, some bread, and butter. The silverware is the nicest I've ever seen. I shake my head, it's no time to think about silverware.

Scoffing, I ruffle Jo's hair a bit. "It was hardly 'brave' Jo. How are you feeling?" It's a stupid question, but I'm barely hanging on to my shred of humanity.

"I guess the usual feeling. I'm scared. But honestly, I'm not afraid to put up a fight." Jo crosses her bony arms across her chest, tilting her chin up. I smile just a bit, she's a little like Sam.

I'm just opening my mouth to say something else, but that's when the door opens and shuts close. I already know the sounds of a drunken man, so no doubt it's Bobby Singer. I raise an eyebrow at him. He's slouched back against the door, and is shaking, holding a beer bottle in his right hand.

He's supposed to be our mentor. He's the one that helps us in the arena, and gets us sponsors. However the more I see of this guy, the more I'm losing the last shred of hope I had of surviving. "What'r you two idgits gawking at?" He finally hisses, taking a swig from the bottle. Jo flinches at his sharp tone, hiding a bit behind me. I just scowl at him.

"So are you going to help us? We need to make a plan of survival for the arena." I growl, a hint of malice trailing into my voice. Bobby's eyes narrow and he shrugs. My fists tighten.

"I don't really see a point in-"

The tension I've been feeling all day is pulled back tight on a bowstring. With those words, I can feel the anger, the fear, the sadness, the exhilaration, and all the other emotions pouring out of my body. I launch across the room. My fingers deftly pick up a butter knife. I slam Bobby against the door, the knife raised eye level.

"You son of a bitch!" I yell, my arm pressing against Bobby's throat. Jo lets out a little shriek at the whole event. Bobby's eyes are widened. His bottle of beer has long slipped from his fingers, and is spilling all over the carpet, and newly broken glass. "I am not going to just sit here, waiting to die. I am going to fight. And since you're the only one here with any experience, we could use a little help." I pause, taking a huge breath. "So pull your head from your ass, get over it, and _help us_." I back off, my hand with the knife falling uselessly at my side. Bobby's eyes narrow, and he reaches up, straightening his hat. Then he just walks out, and leaves.

I let out a sound of frustration, walking back and sinking into the sofa. I see Jo hesitate before sitting next to me, laying an arm across my shoulder. "Maybe it's for the best Dean. I mean, what is there to fight for?" I wince at the already bruised and broken voice of Jo. Then I let out a shaky breath.

"Everyone can just sit around if they'd like. But if I'm going to die. I choose to go down swinging." I feel something begin to well in my eyes, and look at the ground in horror. "I'll see you later Jo." Quickly escaping the room, I run down the train until I find an empty room. The second I walk in I lock the door. My knees buckle, and I slide achingly slow down the wall. A tear slips down my cheek, and this time I don't stop it. It's the first time I've cried since Mom died.

**A/N: So I'm sorry this came out so much later then I intended, and is much shorter. School is hard, and I'm sure most of you agree with me. Anyway, usually they will be much longer than this, but my brain was running out of juice! So anyway, thanks for reading!**


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